This Week at Angama #377

As the first golden rays of morning pierced the horizon, two lionesses from the River Pride perched gracefully atop a termite mound, their silhouettes framed by the soft light of dawn. The lionesses stood alert, scanning for movement, perhaps a rival or simply keeping a watchful eye. The mating sounds of their sister broke the silence as she was with the Owino male. The mating pair was still energetic, indicating that it might have been their second day on honeymoon.

We’ve seen Muuaji being hostile towards him when he tried to mate with the females some time back, but it’s good to know the Pride's gene pool is expanding, which will also mean added protection from both males. With the onset of the Great Migration season, it’s a good time to start siring cubs so they’re born when the plains fill with plenty of prey.

We came across a new coalition of three cheetahs, initially thought to be the three Kogatende males from the border, but these males looked much younger. They moved quickly and didn't take time to scent mark trees as cheetahs usually do. Instead, they did the opposite and sniffed for other scents. They lingered around the balanite trees below the escarpment.

It was fairly easy to find them as a tower of giraffes had surrounded the coalition and stared directly at them as they lay in the long grass, which would’ve proved difficult to spot if not for the watch towers. Giraffes with their long necks are a great and easy way to find predators because nothing is too small or sleek for them not to spot from their height.

In a dramatic encounter, Guide Wilson, and guests witnessed a massive African rock python wrapping itself around a full-grown reedbuck in the wetlands, mid-meal and unbothered. Coiled tightly around its prey in a shallow, marshy patch, the python showcased the sheer stealth and power these snakes bear.

Meanwhile, in the heart of the Triangle, the early light painted the escarpment in soft pastels, drawing our eyes to its majestic cliffs. Beneath the panorama lay a cluster of hippos huddled in a muddy pool. This natural spa is a refuge for hippos, elephants, and buffalo, who smother themselves in mud to cool down. As the rains swelled the pool, more hippos arrived until there was barely room to submerge.

The Border Pride males are some of the most impressive lions ever seen. After feasting on a massive buffalo overnight, one of the males looked like a tank, but in reality, that’s when they became the laziest.  

One male was walking up one of the Inselberg hills to find shade with a female following, while his brother stayed with their kill to guard it against the opportunistic clean-up crew that began surrounding them. The Pride has moved in even further into the Kenyan side, settling somewhere to wait for the incoming herds of zebra. Leaving, we could hear lions mating from atop the Inselberg.

The Kogatende males were stalking the zebras at the border, but were quickly spotted in the short grass. Due to the incoming supply of prey, they looked very healthy, and we anticipate action from them as the Migration approaches.

As we stopped at the border to watch the hundreds of zebras streaming in, no passport needed, the rufous-naped lark sang a beautiful tune while perched on one of the boundary pillars. 

Shujaa has emerged from hiding, indicating he has a connection to the Great Migration as his territory spans the entire Mara River and all the crossing points. Guide Wilson found him perched on a tree feasting on a monitor lizard, and it’s safe to say he has a taste for big reptiles; last year, he feasted on a crocodile.

He is currently the oldest male leopard in the Mara Triangle ecosystem, and we hope his habit of disappearing for very long periods only to emerge when there’s plenty of food and action will keep him alive longer. —Japheth Supeyo

This week, our lenses caught a long-crested eagle on safari, perched and soaring above the canopy. You can always notice these eagles by their fully feathered legs, unlike snake eagles or other raptors with bare legs. Their feathering helps insulate them against cold winds at high altitudes and provides protection when they dive into prey.

Later, I switched targets to a tiny dynamo, the pygmy falcon. After several attempts, I finally froze the male in mid‐flight, wings splayed, body taut, eyes on something unseen. But the real moment came when Salash, our eagle-eyed Guide, spotted the bird again snatching a skink. It's easy to underestimate a falcon that weighs less than a paperback book, but watching its precision and speed reminds you that skill doesn’t hinge on size. 

Back on solid ground, we visited an old friend, Craig the Super Tusker. He towers over the plains, his ivory tusks curving like ancient sculptures, yet moves with a kindness that belies his bulk. Elephants are the gentle giants of the savannah, and the world seems to slow when Craig ambles over. Their trunks can uproot trees with brute force, yet they can also cradle a baby elephant or delicately pick blades of grass.

Cruising through the wildlife corridor on our way to Amboseli National Park, we nearly overlooked the poised figure of an immature eastern chanting goshawk perched confidently atop a sun-warmed rock. Its plumage still brushed with the soft streaks of youth, caught the morning light, revealing every subtle pattern and nuance of its feathers.

Ever vigilant, the young raptor regarded us with calm curiosity, shifting its stance just enough to gift us a series of perfect portraits. Then, it launched itself into the morning air, wings unfurling. Talons tucked, tail feathers fanned, and eyes locked straight ahead, already plotting its next move. 

Bird photography demands patience above all. As a bird photographer, you live for those split‑second moments. A blue-cheeked bee-eater, basking in the warm morning sunlight on a slender branch, suddenly springs into mid‑air flight, and I’m there, camera-ready. However, patience alone isn’t enough; you need reflexes and the right gear. I always dial in a fast shutter speed to freeze any sudden takeoff or lightning dive after a buzzing insect.

While on a safari in Amboseli National Park, we approached a family of elephants heading towards a narrow water-filled ditch during the midday heat. The matriarch led the way, kneeling slightly and sloshing water over her broad back with her trunk. Calves and sub‑adults followed suit one by one, trumpeting in delight as they wallowed knee deep in the muddy pool.  

Wallowing serves more than just a cooling function for elephants; it’s also a critical form of pest control. As the water and accompanying mud coats their skin, it clogs the holes and passages that ticks, flies, and other bothersome insects cling to. Once the mud dries and flakes away, the suffocated pests fall off, leaving the elephants’ hides cleaner and more comfortable.

Beyond pest regulation, these communal bath breaks reinforce social bonds within the herd. Younger elephants learn the best techniques by mimicking their elders, and playful scrapes and nudges in the water strengthen family ties. 

On an evening drive, I captured a lone wildebeest as a perfect silhouette against the molten sunset. Its curved horns and sturdy frame made a dramatic silhouette for a perfect shot.

Guide Salash swept his spotlight across the grass, revealing the elusive lioness moving stealthily with her cub. The hush of the night was broken only by the soft padding of their paws. It had been ages since anyone at the lodge caught a glimpse of her with her little one, so seeing them emerge felt like a gift. -Rio Marvin